a    man with his
     heaviness    weighs the
masculine     waters

    be    like stone
its depth    of concentration
  
   wherefore     birds  lose
  sight of their    rapt flight
above    waters    stills a man
    whose mirror     is not of   a mirage
but       a    man   flat against    the seductive      rose
  
   to     hold  his     breath
and rain's      supreme bullet
       are    but simplistic    maze
again     the   stone cannot  reveal
the     man   in his  proud   geographies —

      such   trouble   of mortality
begins,   a wrest     of bones,   the volcano     defined    by  such earthenware
whose   metaphysics   unalphabeted
  like   fellows    going back to god's    arms
   sitting      well   with
          red    roses.